


into the unknown

by worksofgies



Series: the story of you [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Mystery, POV Second Person, Science Fiction, Waffle House
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 21:44:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19450096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worksofgies/pseuds/worksofgies
Summary: As a being from an unexplored area of the universe, you visit Earth as part of an academic trip. What you find on the surface only adds more to the mystery of humanity's state in the future.





	into the unknown

**Author's Note:**

> hey y'all!  
> I've been working on a series of second pov mystery stories, and figured I'd post them on here!  
> enjoy!

Walking through the entrance of the establishment, you take a look around. The language posted on the signs is one that you recognize, mainly through rigorous study of ancient text (thanks, University of Philn’draq), but nothing else seems familiar until a human male walks to the front of the counter. You’ve seen every example of the human race possible in your textbooks: the multitude of colors and sizes they come in, every small detail that can make one easily distinguished from another. This man has nothing, absolutely nothing, that could be used to make the claim that he is unique. With every blink of your eight eyes, he remains completely anonymous. He resembles no one, yet everyone all at once.

“Welcome to Waffle House, my name is Jake and I’ll be your server today. How may I help you?” His voice is monotonous, and his eyes seem dead even though nothing of his stature indicates failing health. The menu hangs above your head, almost close enough to hit it. You look up at the plastic, blue rectangle coated with photos of Terran food, and you choose the circular disks that remind you of Ir’qui, one of the festival foods from back home. 

“I would like a way-ful,” you say, the words foreign to your tongues and accent causing the sounds to come out slurred. Remembering the manners of the planet, you add, “please.”

“Comin’ right up,” Jake says, tying a black apron around his waist as he turns to the grills and appliances attached to the wall. Left alone, you seat yourself and scan the surroundings while you wait.

The windows open to a deep red sky, empty of all clouds, and you still sweat from the humidity residing outside. In class, your professors had told you of the beautiful blue skies that used to encompass the Earth, and you wish that you could’ve been alive to see them. On Krax, the atmosphere is devoid of color, purely black from the space surrounding it, and the air is dry. The difference in climate is one of many traits that set this planet apart from home, and the contrasting ideals are utterly fascinating.

The interior is also strange, with orbs of fluorescent light hanging above your head, suspended by metallic poles to the ceiling. The spheres are fascinating to you; light was never able to be harnessed back home, and the fact that humans had grasped a concept that the evolved species, those with ways of interstellar travel, hadn’t, was a source of considerable scientific debate. 

Going back into the present, you survey your surroundings. Raised red chairs, though still short enough for your legs to brush the floor, line one side of the restaurant, meeting with a counter colored in white and gray, although a streak of red garners your attention for a moment. The walls and floor are of white tile, and various methods of seating are scattered throughout the remaining space. Photographs and posters are placed upon the walls with no organization. You recognize none of them, save for a poster of a film, slightly torn, showing a triad of red, white, and blue coloring three faces, proclaiming “IN THEATERS JULY 22.” 

You check your ring.

It is Avui 13, 2843-VIII.

You set the date to Terran terminology.

It is July 17, 3018.

You sigh.

A light sound rings out, and Jake turns around. He holds a plate in his right hand and a mug in his left. 

You glance at Jake, worried.

He sets the meal in front of you as he leans against the counter. “I got you a coffee; correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure your people have something like it back on Krax.”

Even though he mispronounced your planet, with too hard of a crackle at the beginning, it is always nice to know that others acknowledge your home, and relief slides down your spines. “Thank you,” you say, and begin to eat. The fork, with its odd shape, cannot be held in your hand, so you slide one of your claws out of a fingertip and use it instead. 

As you eat, a panel catches your eye. It’s a white rectangle with three boxes inside, one green, one yellow, and one red. The green box is lit. Jake notices your glance.

“That’s our Index,” he says. “Green for good to go, yellow for possible damage, and red for emergency. It’s our way of knowing what the outside world is like.”

You think of the weather outside, the red sky, the blistering heat, the sweltering humidity, and relay it with any information you know about humanity. It’s said that all of the humans have gone underground to avoid the outside conditions; you have no idea as to how it isn’t deemed an emergency. “The climate is completely uninhabitable for your kind. Why is it deemed ‘good to go?’”

He laughs, a harsh noise as he shakes his head.“Yeah, it sucks out there, but at least nothing’s changed in here. The wages aren’t too bad, and neither are the working conditions.” He pauses. Under his breath, he mutters something about “demons in that damn Target.” You file it away to ask one of your professors at a later time. Right as you open your mouth to ask another question, the light sound rings once again, and your gaze is drawn to the door. 

A female Trichtren is bending over to avoid hitting her head on the ceiling, ruby-red scales glittering under the fluorescent light. One set of arms covers her neck as another lays limp at her sides. Jake sees her and smiles.

“Yo, Akrit, the usual?”

She nods, and Jake is quick to prepare her meal. The food, a large slab of meat along sliced potatoes paired with a cup full of a clear, bubbling liquid smelling faintly of citrus, is given to her, and her gratitude at the efficiency is apparent in her low trill. Her eyes narrow in delight, irises turning clear in her species’ uniform show of delight. She exits the diner with the same huddle, the only difference being the sound of the liquid being pulled through the tube placed inside the cup.

You turn back to Jake. “Are there any other humans with you?”

“Nope, it’s just me here.”

You peer at him, curious. “When was the last time you saw one of your own?”

“Honestly? I’d say about six years or so.”

“What happened?”

“The Mayans were right, and no one believed them.” He smiles to himself. “I remember all of the mayhem, supplies being bought in bulk, people quitting their jobs, families hunkering down in shelters. The night before everything was supposed to go to Hell, I got put as the lead for the graveyard shift. Right as the clock struck midnight, everything went quiet.” Wiping down a glass, he continued. “I haven’t seen anyone other than y’all since.”

“Who is ‘y’all?’”

“Everyone who comes through my doors. They’re never human, always new species with new customs, but it gives me something to look forward to; it helps the loneliness go away.”

Humans are pack bonders, so the idea of Jake being alone for an extended period of time is alarming. Known as a “loner” species, you’ve never had an issue with being by yourself, but you remember from your first few classes that not all species are like your own. “Are you,” you say, trying to find a word he would understand, “okay?”

He shakes his head, smirking. “Not in the slightest, my friend.”

You smile at his terminology. “Friends” are not a universal concept, as demonstrated by your species. The fact that you’ve managed to bond with a human well enough to have it classify you as a friend is undoubtedly enough for extra credit. 

The small sound rings out once again, and you turn back to the door. VBI-9257 stands in the entrance, fanning herself with the webs within her arm openings. She looks at you, and you turn back to Jake, smiling. “What did you refer to me as?”

“A friend,” he says, looking you in the eyes.

You turn back to VBI-9257, and she motions for you to meet with her. Sliding off of the stool, your first and fifth feet hit the ground before the rest, and you pause for a moment to avoid falling. You walk over to her before realizing what exactly you’ve forgotten. “What shall I exchange for your cuisine?” you ask Jake.

“Just,” he says, and stops himself for a moment. His nose scrunches, with lines across his forehead appearing and disappearing rapidly while his eyebrows slam together before everything smooths out, and he walks out from behind the counter. His black shoes shine like the husk of an orkioite beetle. Taking a small rectangle and a long, white cord out of his pocket, he presses it into one of your claws. You gladly take it, putting it inside the bag hanging limply off of your shoulder.

“What do I do with this?” you ask,

“RIS-4311, you’re the only one I’ve met so far that would be able to help me.”

“How am I going to help you?” You think of the odd gift, and confusion draws to the forefront of your mind. You wonder what it could do, what it could be.

“If you ever find out what actually happened here, why everyone went missing, just activate this and let me know.”

Silence stretches as you think of what this could mean. You imagine the clinical terms used by your professors in class; the utter emotional detachment they speak with as they list the species that have lived and died under many a burning sun. If you tried to rack your brain at this very moment, you wouldn’t be able to list every single species you’d learned about, and the thought of your own kind, of the people like you becoming simply another statistic for students in the future to learn for a moment before forgetting is, well, unnerving, to say the least. 

“Please,” he says, staring. His eyes do not blink as he looks at you.

“Of course, Jake. Of course.”

Relief swallows him whole, and he smiles at you. “Thank you,” he says, and he strolls back to his counter. When a small green bipedal being walks in, you leave with VBI-9257.

As you board your ship back home, you think of everything your paper will consist of. You imagine the delight your professor will feel knowing that, out of all creatures, you met and befriended a human. Perhaps you could even include the task you’d been given as part of your studies, a way to both solve the mystery of the Earth as well as earn the credits you need to complete your course at Philn’draq after five years of studies.

As your ship finds itself further and further away from Earth, you try to remember what Jake looked like. Nothing comes to mind; no eye shape or skin tone, no height or weight seemed to stick in your mind. When you picture him _ (was it even a him?) _ , you can picture nothing, just a vague outline of a human shape. 

And then, you think of how you never told Jake your name.

**Author's Note:**

> any settings/tropes you'd like to see next? any thoughts on what happened after? I'd love to hear them!


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